


Another Love

by Amelita



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-03-01 18:39:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2783672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amelita/pseuds/Amelita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired entirely on the song and video for 'Another Love' by Tom Odell.</p><p>Repost: Originally posted June 2014</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Love

She was so sweet. So pretty. He brought her daffodils on their first date.

She had long hair, a thin frame. But he noticed the details vaguely. Even now, if you asked him he couldn’t have told you what color her eyes were. She was asleep so he couldn’t check.

She was nice, so people said. That was probably the reason he had married her. He couldn't remember. They had been married…was it last year? Or the year before that? Maybe more. Time had become so difficult to keep track of. Or perhaps it was that he simply had stopped trying.

He should probably want to do something. Kiss her maybe. Or crawl into bed beside her. He was just so very tired.

Another night maybe. If he could remember.

The door closed behind him and her eyes popped open. They were brown. And filled with unshed tears.

-

She was clutching at his hand. Upset, crying hysterically. Someone had hurt her. She knew exactly who had done it. Came to him for help. He should be angry, vengeful. Cut out the man’s throat, punch his face in, hit him, again and again and again. Until it was shattered beyond repair. Until he needed a breathing tube for the rest of his life.

That was what the old him would have done. Had done. When someone hurt the one he loved.

But now……somehow it just seemed too much trouble. His hands felt so heavy, like they had been broken. He sighed and shook his head. What was the use? It wouldn’t change anything.

She finally seemed to realize he wouldn’t do anything and stopped speaking. Dropped his hand. He sighed in relief. Had her voice always been so high-pitched? She threw up her hands up in frustration, slammed the door behind her so hard the walls shook.

He knew he should get up and go after her. Make everything all right, hold her and kiss her until the tears were gone and she had forgotten what made her angry in the first place……he had done that before. For someone else.

He was just so very tired. Next time, for sure.

-

She was screaming. Screaming in rage and pain. Throwing things at him. Every so often he flinched. But he didn’t move. Just let her scream at him.

There was something that she wanted from him, but he couldn’t figure out exactly what it was. She advanced on him, kicking the coffee table across the room where it slammed into the wall. A picture frame fell and shattered on the floor.

It had been a picture of a man in a black suit and a woman in a white wedding dress. Huh. He had never noticed it before.

His eyes raised back up when she started to scream into his face. His hair blowing back slightly. Her breath smelled like cigarettes.

Made him really want one.

She whirled around and began pulling books off the shelf. Hurling them at a point right next to his head. He just watched them come, was vaguely surprised that she never hit him.

Finally the storm seemed to be over, the screams turned to sobs and the sobs to silence. He laid his head back against the headrest, glad that it was finally over.

He was just so very tired.

Tomorrow, he would figure out what that had been all about. Tomorrow would be fine.

-

When had his hair turned grey? He blinked at the mirror as if seeing himself for the first time in a long time. She was standing behind him. A suitcase on the floor beside her. Must be going on a trip.

She looked at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to say something. What was he supposed to say?

He thought hard for a moment. She shook her head sadly and picked up her suitcase. Slowly walking toward the door, dragging her feet almost.

When she was gone, he was surprised at how silent, how quiet the apartment was.

Perhaps he should go after her, at least figure out where she was going. If she needed anything. But she had been taking care of herself for years and the thought of running after her was exhausting.

He was just so very tired.

Later he would call her up, see how her trip was going. Later.

-

He was at a funeral. In the front row. Everyone around him was crying. Occasionally eyes would flick curiously over at his placid face.

They were all so sad.

A picture was propped in front of the closed casket. It was the slender, longhaired girl. There were daffodils all around.

The pastor was commiserating about how sad, how tragic. A plane crash.

An elderly woman was on her knees in front of the casket. Wailing uncontrollably. An old man came up behind her, gathering her into his arms. The old man’s eyes shot towards him. The fury, the rage inside them startled him for a moment.

Was it because he wasn’t crying? Everyone else was. He supposed he should be too. But how was it done?

He knew he had cried before. Long and hard. Gut-wrenching sobs that had never seemed to end. His eyes burning, his stomach heaving.

He wished he could cry for her. She had been good, sweet. She had been worth crying for. But there was nothing left inside him. All of his tears had been used up.

On another love.

-

Need more? There's a LOT more! Come check out my Facebook and Tumblr pages if you want to know more about me and my writing!  
<https://www.facebook.com/amelitarae>  
<http://amelitarae.tumblr.com/>


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